What Hurts the Most
by Wanderingidealism
Summary: Gajeel paused by a group of trees in the park. he remembers... painfully. Could be seen as GajeelxLevy, or just a fic about remorse. Which is what I like to think of it as.


Levy and Gajeel.

Gajeel paused by the tree in Magnolia park.

It held memories.

Memories he wishes he could erase, memories that can't be erased simply by destroying the source- the tree.

He looked up at the marks- eight scars, high up above the ground. Less vibrant than the day he made them.

But no less painful to look at.

He remembers screaming and the thrill of hunting an enemy who couldn't' fight back. He remembers taking pleasure in healing them scream.

Eight scars, eight on three trees.

Crucified high up, so the whole town could see.

And he was happy to do it.

He chokes on that memory. Because not even a week after the incident he joined the very same guild. How he had even gotten in still eludes him. The Master said something about never being able to live with himself if he let a young man fall to darkness. But wasn't it nothing less than he deserved? He attacked and brutalized three of his precious children; what right had he to even show up at the guild doors?

But they still took him, even if it took months and months of hard missions and earning his place to convince them that he was trustworthy. Even if he had to play double-agent to a man with less sanity than a rabid dog- the master's son, Ivan. He promised Makarov he'd alert hm to all of Ivan's doings; what else could he do? If he died on the mission, it was no less than he deserved.

What really killed him was that everyone accepted the water-mage, Juvia, almost instantly. They loved her after a few weeks. She was rather endearing when she smiled, he wouldn't blame them. He didn't' blame her at all. No. It wasn't even the fact that most of the guild openly abhorred him. The glares, and insults didn't pierce his iron shell, no more than Salamander's fiery fists did during the bar brawls. He got along fine with certain members… But whenever the tiny bluenette caught sight of him, she would run. Her partners would glare.

He would take it. It was no less than he deserved.

He stared at the tree; all three, every scar. He fucked everything up. He wasn't like Wendy, who could use her dragon slayer's magic for good- he couldn't heal, just wound. He couldn't save, just kill.

What hurt the most about joining the guild was not the blow to his pride. He had none, he never really gave two shits about Phantom Lord anyway; he had always been alone.

It wasn't the glares, the malice, and ice whenever he passed. It wasn't the insults, or threats, or even the watchful, untrusting eyes of the guild that hurt him the most.

It was watching two, large brown eyes fill with tears, and the back of a blue-haired head bobbing away as fast as short limbs could carry her.

Her partner's fists didn't hurt him. He could have taken them down in the bat of an eye. Even when she hit him, but tried to halt the abuse of her partners. That part he knew he didn't deserve.

What hurt the most to him, was the fear in her eyes. In their eyes. The hatred dwelling in every punch. He could have run, or fought, but couldn't.

What hurt the most was the guilt. Of beating three people to death, who didn't deserve a single hit. Guilt gnawed at him every day. Every night, because he was strong, and they were not. But they could be.

What hurt the most wasn't the guilt, the insults, or the hatred. It wasn't the ice in the guild's stares, or even the fleeing of the terrified bluenette, or Laxus's thunderbolt coursing through his veins.

What hurt the most were her eyes as she stared at him the first time. Right before the s-class exams. Because those brown eyes were still broken and hurt-

But now they trusted him. Because she was willing to forgive him.

What hurt the most, he decided, running his hands along the rough bark of the tree- what hurt the most was forgiveness. And the hard-earned trust about to be shattered.

Because Ivan was on the move, lusting for fairy's blood, and he had to save the guild, even if it meant betraying them first. Because those were Master's order's weren't they? Protect the guild no matter what.

Even if it meant breaking a petite bluenette in half once again.

Even if it meant breaking himself in half, and dying in the process.

Gajeel paused over a small, worn spot on the tree. He turned his index finger into a sharp point, and plunged into the hard wood once again.

When Levy passed the spot the next morning. She found a heart-shaped carving in the center of the very tree on which she was crucified.

Written boldly in the center, and outlined in iron, stood the words,

"I'm sorry."

Because he was.

And he was afraid she'd never get to hear it.


End file.
